the sun stokes the suspicion
that arises on the brim of your brow
and the truth drips in front of your eyes
detected by the time the evening glows

and I'm above the inclination
to prowl around the dark
to fold your cheek in with your fist
and punch it through my heart

does it echo round the mornings?
does it mind you driving slow?
does it make you think of when you used to think those things of me
and thinking of those things would make your head explode?

it was always on the cards
the final copper dropped
and emptiness is steeping
sides of every book

there was token generosity when you climbed out my heart
and disappeared in knee-highs deep into the dark
you kind of hit the sweet spot between the bitter and the bark
wearing my jacket as your last laugh

does it mess with your mitosis?
does it get up in your edges?
does it make you think of when you used to think of things of me
and thinking of those things would make your heart ache?

it was always on the cards
the final gobber stopped
and emptiness is seeping
through the cracks in every look

there was token generosity when you climbed out my heart
and disappeared in knee-highs deep into the dark
you kind of hit the sweet spot between the bitter and the bark
wearing my jacket as your last laugh

it was always on the way
the sour cherry champagne-flute charade

there was token generosity when you climbed out my heart
and disappeared in knee-highs deep into the dark
you kind of hit the sweet spot between the bitter and the bark
wearing my jacket as your last laugh